


take my hand and make the stars collide

by tolvsmol



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Crack, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends With Benefits, Las Vegas, Las Vegas Wedding, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, at least i hope so im not rlly actualy funny, everyoen else is gay, harry is GROSS and louis spoils him, harry is louis' baby basically, in which they kind of share taht rlly but its not a big deal, just like borderline crack bc theyre so fucking dumb, not really but kind of?????? its a mix of both, oh and theres like one paragraph of vague smut, pay attention to ziall bc blink and u'll miss it, theres like 1 straight couple im sorry but theyre cool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 22:00:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13960908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tolvsmol/pseuds/tolvsmol
Summary: It all started with a few too many shots and ended with Louis drunkenly betting Harry to marry him – apparently “You won’t” is enough incentive for both of them, because now they’re at a rundown motel with a 24 hour chapel, and they’re giggling and kissing in the pews as they wait their turn. Except Louis sort of lost his buzz an hour or so ago, but he’s too afraid to say anything. Where does ‘marrying your best friend under false pretenses’ fall in terms of moral ambiguity? (Louis almost calls it off right then and there, until Harry admits he’s also dead sober, but… why not go home with one hell of a story anyway?)or the one where what happens in vegas doesn't always stay in vegas.





	take my hand and make the stars collide

**Author's Note:**

> a big massive thanks to the friends who helped pick apart my dumb mistakes, you know who you are. and also to ri for writing the five second sexy scene. you're all wonderful and i love you. ♡ (i got a bit carried away with the prompt, but i hope you like it anyway)
> 
> if you enjoy reading this, feel free to leave a comment or come say hi on [tumblr](https://rosesau.tumblr.com/)! all the love. x

**_drive straight into the moonlight (kiss me and tell me you're mine)_ **

 

Alcohol. Harry. Las Vegas. That’s what turned Louis’ life upside down and slid it sideways, though probably not in that particular order. Definitely not in that order. On a list of things that undid Louis, Harry would always be at the very top. 

* * *

It wasn’t meant to be a thing, honestly. Not really. They were kind of a little (a lot) drunk, sloppily making out in Niall’s kitchen, blind to the chaos around them. It wasn’t so much chaos, really, as it was Niall throwing a birthday party for Zayn, who’s not much of a party person anyway. Louis was sure Zayn would much rather blow out candles on a homemade cake and smoke a blunt, surrounded by just his four idiot friends, but Niall was adamant that everyone came. In his words, he wanted Zayn to feel special and loved and cared for.

So, there they were, kissing in their best friend’s kitchen as a party raged on for their other best friend. Louis was on the counter, ankles hooked around Harry’s waist and arms wrapped around his neck, while Harry’s palms rested at either side of Louis’ hips.

“What do you want for your birthday?” Louis asked at one point, nosing along the side of Harry’s jaw and peppering tiny kisses everywhere his lips touched. Harry’s birthday was about a month away, but not really — only two weeks, to be accurate, and they were honestly just talking shit.

“Give me all the stars in the sky,” Harry answered a little breathlessly, tilting his head so Louis could keep kissing down his neck, nipping and biting, leaving faint marks that would prettily bruise by morning. “Give me the whole world, Lou.”

It was such an extravagant and melodramatic request, such a _Harry_ thing to ask for when he was drunk, that it bubbled a laugh out of Louis, He tugged Harry’s face closer by the neck, pressed a kiss to his lips. Harry tasted sweet, like peaches, probably because of the forgotten moscato. But he always tasted sweet, so. Louis was so fucked. “Think I might be able to rip out a star or two for you, _maybe,_ but I dunno about the whole world.” He tugged fondly at the curl falling into Harry’s eyes. His hair is always so pretty, so so lovely. “Bit much, don’t you think?”

Harry pulled back an inch to gaze up at Louis through slightly glassy eyes. Louis loves when they’re in these positions, when he can be the taller one for a moment and Harry has to look up at him.

“Trick question,” he whispered, and there was a dimpled smile, a bit crooked, before he put his hands on either side of Louis’ face and knocked their foreheads together, “You’re my whole world.” The words were accompanied by a giggle, causing a flutter in Louis’ chest, and he could feel a blush spreading on his cheeks. He stubbornly blamed it on the alcohol.

“I have a reputation, Harry,” was what Louis blurted out, though he was beyond endeared. Louis Tomlinson had a reputation, alright. People knew he was an asshole most of the time, to a select few people, and that he was smitten with his best friend all of the time.

“Oh, my sweet, sweet Lou,” Harry crooned through a fit of laughter, pressing closer to Louis until their mouths were half a breath apart. They stayed that way, just breathing each other in, lips brushing every few seconds but never quite touching, until Harry murmured, “Kiss me proper.” And Louis did. Harry kept his hands on Louis’ face, sliding down to the sides of Louis’ neck, and Louis’ fingers knotted themselves in Harry’s hair. Harry loved it, loved when Louis tugged at his hair just so, and Louis knew because Harry always made the prettiest sound when he did it. It was just a little breathy and just a little weighty, and it left Louis wanting more. Louis scooted to the edge of the counter, so Harry didn’t have to lean in so much, and Louis’ crotch pressed against Harry’s thigh. It made Louis gasp into the kiss, made his breath hitch just a little, and Harry’s tongue slipped past his lips. Harry tasted like peaches and mangoes and something else, and Louis was sure he tasted like Harry. Harry’s thumb pressed into Louis’ pulsepoint, and Louis saw stars behind his eyes when Harry bit down on Louis’ bottom lip.

“Vegas,” Harry mumbled into Louis’ mouth, and Louis wasn’t sure if he heard correctly, wasn’t sure if Harry was too much for his drunk brain. Then Harry continued, “That’s what I want for my birthday. Vegas.”

▵▾▵

It was later, when most people had already left and it was just Harry and Louis tangled on Niall’s sofa, squished beside Niall and Zayn, that Louis brought it up. They were a convoluted mess of limbs and wandering hands. Louis wasn’t quite sure how they were positioned, to be honest, because Harry was half in his lap, but one of his legs disappeared under Zayn’s knee, and it was a little too confusing to figure out. Louis was too drunk, and a little high, to make sense of it, so he let it be.

The TV was on, showing a documentary or some such thing about deep sea mysteries, and Louis’ mind was thoroughly fucked. He wasn’t really paying attention to what was being said, but he also couldn’t really take his eyes off the screen for too long. The things — _the_ _living creatures_ — they showed were so mind-boggling, so unbelievably unreal, it was hard to admit to himself that they actually exist. They showed a giant jellyfish of some sort, or, at least, that’s what Louis thought it was. It looked more like a billowy, translucent vacuum that opened up its entire body to swallow its prey whole. There was this glow in the dark _thing_ that looked more like a slimey, demented human embryo than anything should have the right to look.

Zayn was saying something about multiple universes, slurring his already quiet words. “There’s another me out there, you know. And another you,” he paused, plucking the blunt from Niall’s lips and taking a slow drag. “There’s so many of us out there and it’s, like, is this real? What if, this is just a dream? And our dreams are the true reality in this realm?”

He was silent again, they all were, and Harry was lazily sucking a mark on Louis’ neck, almost distractedly, when Niall whispered, “That’s fucked, Zayn.”

Louis agreed, and maybe he would have said as much, if Zayn hadn’t spoken up. “I think I’m a farmer in a different world. Taking care of horses.”

“Farmers farm, darling,” Louis quipped at the same time that Niall said, “Of course, you would be.”

And, then, Harry said, “I think I’m in a boyband, in a world far away.” The words were spoken into Louis’ neck, and the vibrations from Harry’s mouth sent a chill down Louis’ spine. In the best way, though.

“What if,” Niall started, and then immediately trailed off when Zayn passed the joint back. Harry took it next, and Niall continued, “What if we’re in the same boyband, together? Liam, too.”

“Wishful thinking,” Louis shook his head and let Harry place the spliff between his lips, who was saying, “You can’t even sing, Niall.”

“In another universe I can. I bet we have a million awards, like, just all over the place. We’re on top of the world, baby.”

Just then, something soft and heavy jumped onto the sofa, giving Louis a small heart attack. It was Pepper, Niall’s large grey Siberian cat. She’d been locked away in one of the bedroom’s during the party, but apparently she’d gone as long as she could without attention. Louis gave her a welcoming scratch behind the ears, but she ignored him in favor of settling in Niall’s lap. Zayn kissed the top of her head before getting up and taking the blunt from Harry. “I’m gonna go finish this outside.”

They were idiots, all five of them, but they all paid the utmost attention in taking care of Pepper.

“I’d be a cat lady in a different universe,” Harry said.

And it was all just a load of shit, honestly. None of it meant anything, not really. Louis wasn’t even sure what he was saying, and imagining multiple versions of himself made his head spin. _What if there_ was _another Louis somewhere? What if that Louis didn’t have a Harry in his lap right now? What if that Louis never met his boys? What if that Louis isn’t even called Louis?_ It was a lot, too much, so he said, “This Louis’ taking the lot of you to Vegas for Harold’s birthday.”

And Harry wriggled in place until he was proper straddling Louis, pressing a filthy kiss into Louis’ mouth that eventually had Niall groaning about privacy and rooms and public decency. But Harry was happy about Vegas, and Louis was happy about Harry.

And it really wasn’t meant to be a thing, honestly.

▵▾▵

Harry’s birthday fell on a Sunday, which meant Louis was working when the clock hit midnight. He called Harry multiple times, and every single time, he eventually got Harry’s voice telling him, _Hey, it’s Harry, please leave a message and I’ll reach you soon. Thanks a bunch!_ Louis didn’t feel like leaving a voicemail, so he impatiently waited until his shift ended, which wasn’t until two in the bloody morning. He helped Bebe clean up the place, and that’s a generous statement, considering she let him go, like, twenty minutes earlier than he usually would have. Louis loves her, he really does.

So, he raced to Harry and Liam’s apartment.

He had his own key to the place, so getting in at nearly 3 a.m. wasn’t a problem. The problem was waking Harry, who was passed out on his bed, his laptop dead next to him. Louis closed the laptop and put it on the desk, before crawling onto the bed and wrapping his arms around Harry and pulling him into his chest. Harry skin was cold, because the idiot was only wearing a flimsy shirt with no blanket, and Louis held him tight as he peppered tiny kisses along Harry’s shoulder.

“Happy birthday to you,” he sang softly, and kissed the spot under Harry’s ear, the one that always makes him squirm. “Happy birthday to you,” Louis nipped at the skin, licked over the bite, and Harry stirred in his sleep, made the softest mewling sound. “Happy birthday, dear Harold. Happy birthday to you.” Harry hummed — purred, really, — before turning in Louis’ arms so they were face to face.

Harry nuzzled into Louis’ neck, breathing in deeply and tangling their legs together. “You came.”

“Hm, but you didn’t.” Harry was supposed to meet Louis at the bar after his own shift ended, but a little after nine, Louis’ phone buzzed with a text from Harry saying he wouldn’t be able to make it.

“Yeah, ‘m sorry,” he said, lips puckered against Louis’ neck. He snuggled closer to Louis, his hands loosely curled in Louis’ shirt under his jacket. “Riley called me basically right after I got out of work and asked for help on a couple of questions, because I told them I’m busy tomorrow, so I had to help them. I was barely finished with that when Owen texted and said he wanted to talk about the proposal, and, again, I didn’t wanna do it tomorrow, so I said yes.” He tilted his head back a little and kissed Louis languidly, bringing one hand up to card his fingers through Louis’ hair. “Thanks for coming. You’re the bestest friend in the whole world.”

Riley was the high school student Harry tutored for physics, and Owen was some kid from Harry’s anthropology class.

“I brought you a bottle of rosé,” Louis mumbled, and he felt a smile against his mouth. God, it was one of the best feelings in the world — Harry smiling and laughing into Louis. “Wanna split it?”

“Just turned legal and already you’re trying to corrupt me in the middle of the night. Tsk tsk, Louis, aren’t you supposed to be setting a good example?” He was so sleepy, is the thing, so damn tired and sleepy, that it actually made him sound innocent.

“You’re hardly an angel, Harry Styles,” Louis laughed as they both sat up, and he grabbed the bottle of wine from the bedside table. Louis didn’t steal glasses from the bar, and he knew Harry and Liam didn’t have any, so he popped open the pink bottle and held it out for Harry. “Your first legal drink, Haz. Bottoms up.”

“So many firsts with you,” Harry joked with a shake of his head, but he drank from the bottle anyway. And it was true. Harry had a lot of his firsts with Louis — not all, but a lot. Most of the ones that counted, really. First kiss, first dance, first cigarette, first fuck. And this wasn’t really Harry’s first drink. He was drunk two nights ago, honestly. But it was nice to pretend anyway and indulge him. He passed the bottle back to Louis, who knocked back a generous gulp. “So?” Harry said, knocking their knees together, “What about my present? Where’s Vegas?”

Louis genuinely laughed at that as the wine came up his nose. Very flattering, honestly. “You were serious about that?”

Harry took the bottle again and sipped. “Hm, yeah, I said I want Vegas, didn’t I? I wasn’t _that_ drunk.”

“Sure you don’t want anything else?”

Harry ginned, dimple cratering his cheek even in the dark, and Louis knew what was coming next. He knew how the next few minutes would unfold, because they’d bickered about this so many times. “You know what I want.”

“Not really, no. Remind me again?”

Harry batted his eyelashes as he pulled his lips away from the rim of the bottle, a positively devilish glint in his eyes. One of his hands settled on Louis’ knee. “Ask me to be your boyfriend,” he whispered, breath colored in liquor and mingling with Louis’

“And why would I do that?” Louis asked, and closed the gap between them for a kiss — just the barest whisper of a kiss.

“Because it’s my birthday,” Harry answered in a singsong voice, dragging out the vowels in the most endearing way, “And because you love me.”

“Maybe so,” Louis shrugged, feigning indifference, even though he so wanted to give Harry anything and everything he wanted. “But my mother didn’t raise someone who gives in. Nice try, though.”

Harry pouted, but it was obvious how hard he was trying to hold in his laughter, because those words were such a lie. That was neither here nor there, though.

See, they’d made a bet, ages ago. When they first starting fucking and their friends found out, Niall (Louis thinks) said they wouldn’t last another week before becoming an exclusive couple.

“Oh, he’s not that special,” Louis had joked.

“Neither are you,” Harry’d rolled his eyes.

“Please, Harold, you’ll be asking to court me in two days.”

“Wanna bet?”

And so they had a bet. Whoever caved in first and asked the other to be exclusive would... well, he’d lose, and the winner would get to decide his own prize. Now it was about six months later and neither of them were willing to set aside their pride for something they both knew they wanted.

“Fine, whatever,” Harry said after taking another swig, “You’d make a terrible boyfriend, anyway.” But even as he said the words, Louis could tell he was biting back a smile. He handed the bottle back to Louis and made a point to exaggerate his pout before falling back one the pillow and curling into himself.

Louis bit back his own endeared laugher. He capped the bottle and put it back on the small table, and then peeled off his jacket before folding himself around Harry, pulling the blankets over them both. Harry was tense at first, absolutely unresponsive, but then he took Louis’ hand in his and locked their fingers together. Louis’ heart felt so light. “Love you, mate,” he pressed into Harry’s shoulder, kissed the nape of his neck.

Harry pinched his hand. “Goodnight, _mate.”_

Louis laughed. “Promise I’ll take you to Vegas.”

Harry rolled over in Louis’ arms, adjusted himself to tuck Louis’ head under his chin. “You’re still the absolute worst,” he mumbled, but it was followed by a brush of lips against the crown of Louis’ head.

Louis kissed Harry’s clothed chest, right over his heart.

And, so, Vegas was a thing.

* * *

They spent Harry’s actual birthday at his parents’ place. Anne prepared risotto and smoked salmon and some sort of Moroccan chicken dish with apricots and almonds that had Louis drooling before he’d had a single bite. It was a quiet night in, for the most part, except that it wasn’t quiet at all. Anne made dinner and Harry helped a bit, but Louis was more of a hindrance than any actual assistance, all while they played a gruelling game of Scrabble. And, by they, Louis means Harry, Anne, and Robin. Gemma wasn’t home, yet, because she was working on a TV set and they were shooting on location, or something along those lines. They were all a little drunk, just a little bit buzzed, because it was Harry’s twenty-first and they could all pretend it was Harry’s first time drinking an alcoholic beverage.

When Gemma finally got home, a little later than planned, they all had dinner before Harry blew out his two pink candles and cut his carrot cake. Yes, he wanted a carrot cake for his birthday.  

They moved to the sofas when it was time to open presents, with Harry on the floor, two neatly wrapped boxes and a gift bag in front of him. It was such an endearing thing, honestly, the way he acted like an excited little child sometimes. Louis wasn’t sure if he was holding back his fond.

He opened Gemma’s gift first, which was a fairly small square. He took his time peeling tape off the wrapping paper, like all of it wouldn’t be thrown in the rubbish soon. When he saw whatever it was, his face lit up in that subtle, quiet way of his — when his eyebrows lift a little a bit and his lips curl upward, and it’s not _quite_ a full smile, but it’s there. He let the red wrapping fall and pulled out the box to reveal one of those magic mugs, the ones that light up whenever they’re filled with hot liquid. The packaging showed a black mug turning white with a rainbow on it, and the dimpled grin that bloomed on Harry’s face said everything.

“Open it, there's one more thing,” Gemma said.

Harry carefully opened the box and pulled out a small bottle of pale blue nail varnish. It was a perfect gift, because Harry crawled over to Gemma and squeezed her into a hug. “I love it, Gems. I absolutely love it.”

Next was Robin’s. It was the smallest box, but something told Louis that Harry would like it the most out of all his gifts. Once again, he was deliberately slow in undoing the wrapping and taking out a small velvety rectangle, and as Harry was opening it, Robin spoke.

“I always thought I’d give it to my son, one day,” he was saying, and Louis could swear, he felt his heart stop when he saw what Harry was holding. “Figured now’s as good a time as any to pass it on.”

Harry held up the silver necklace in his hand, and the light glinted off the army dog tag hanging from the chain. “Robin,” Harry whispered, and his voice was thick with emotion, eyes swimming with tears. Louis felt his own eyes water. Harry padded over to where Robin was sitting on the loveseat with Anne, necklace still dangling from his fingers, and wrapped his arms around Robin’s torso. “Thanks, Dad.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo. Happy birthday.” Robin was smiling, but Louis was sure he could spot shiny tears on his cheeks. Harry lingered for another moment, and it must’ve been an uncomfortable hug because Harry was kneeling on the floor and Robin was on the small sofa, but neither of them seemed to care. When Harry finally pulled away, he had to wipe his cheeks and sniffle a few times before put the necklace on, slipping the tag under his shirt, and turned his attention to taking out things from the giant gift bag that Anne had given him.

He pulled out a grey knit jumper (one that Anne probably made herself), a forest green jacket (neither Harry nor Louis mentioned that they live in Los Angeles and Harry rarely wears warm clothes), a framed photo of Harry and Anne from when Harry was, oh, a wee little baby, and another tiny velvet box that held a silver ring (identical to the one Anne was wearing). When Harry saw it, he actually did start crying, and Anne had her arms outstretched before Harry even started moving towards her. Louis couldn’t hear what either of them said, but his heart melted a few minutes ago, so he didn’t need to hear it. This hug lasted longer than the other two, and when they finally pulled apart, Harry settled right there on the floor in between Anne’s legs, pressing his cheek into her knee.

“Well?” he raised his brows, eyes focused on Louis, who was sitting on the floor across from him at Gemma’s feet. “What’d you get me?”

“Nothing,” Louis joked with a shrug, and took a sip of his champagne. “Why would I get you anything?”

Harry craned his neck back to glance at his mother. “See? I told you he’s the worst boyfriend.” Anne and Robin both laughed, and Gemma kicked Louis not so lightly. “He hogs all the covers _and_ he’s stingy.”

Louis didn’t point out that they’re not really boyfriends, because as far as Harry’s family was concerned, they were. They’d been caught by Anne and Gemma a few too many times to say they weren’t dating. Technicalities didn’t really matter, to be honest. Louis knew if someone else genuinely tried making a move on Harry, he might (not so) accidentally rip their limbs off.

“Don’t listen to your son, Anne,” he said instead, “I’m taking him to Vegas for the weekend, but he’s a spoiled brat, so he doesn’t think that’s a real gift.”

“Are you really?” Harry and Anne asked at the same time.

“I literally told you last night, Haz.”

“Well, I didn’t think you were _serious_ about it.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, because it’s Vegas? Who just _goes_ to Vegas randomly?”

Louis turned to Gemma, beckoned her to come closer, and when she leaned down, Louis whispered, “He told me he wants to go to Vegas and secretly get married,” loud enough for everyone else to hear.

“Harry Styles!” Anne sounded just the right amount of scandalized, and Robin was watching the scene with great amusement. “How could you?”

“Mum,” Harry pouted prettily, like a petulant child, “You know I wouldn’t.”

“Don’t worry,” Louis interjected, enjoying himself a little too much, “I told him I couldn’t deny my mother, or you, the dream ceremony. He’s a bit selfish that way.”

“Shut up,” Harry scowled at him, “You’re the _worst.”_

“Hey, not my fault I’m the selfless one in this marriage,” Louis said. Harry was still scowling, so Louis suppressed the roll of eyes and pulled out the envelope he’d been sitting on. He held it out in the space between him and Harry. “Happy birthday, you menace.”

Harry stared at Louis for another moment, his eyes narrowed and mouth still turned downward, before he took the envelope from Louis and carefully ripped it open. It only took a moment for him to realize that he was holding two tickets to a Fleetwood Mac show in his hands, and when he did, he clamped a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You didn’t,” he mumbled from behind his hand.

“You were saying something about me being stingy? And being _‘the worst,’_ if I recall correctly?”

Harry left his cozy spot and wormed his way to Louis. Louis set his wine glass down carefully just in time for Harry to throw his arms around Louis’ neck, grip tight enough to leave Louis more than a little breathless. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he murmured in Louis’ ear, and if it were possible to physically explode from happiness, Louis probably would have. Louis felt Harry kiss his neck twice, just barely, and it was a shame they were surrounded by Harry’s family, honestly. “Best boyfriend ever.”

“Wouldn’t go quite that far, yet” Louis whispered back, but he knew he would after he got Harry to cave in and end the bet first. “But you’re welcome, though. Apology accepted.”

Harry giggled, and it was music to Louis’ ears. They watched The Lion King after that until Louis had to leave for work. He said his quick goodbyes to everyone and Harry followed him out. “I can come with you,” he said in between kisses, “I’m sure they won’t mind.”

“’S okay, H, you don’t have to. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Spend time with your family.” Louis brushed back some of Harry’s curls that kept falling in his eyes. “Time for a trim?” Harry scowled, clearly very offended, and Louis tugged at a lock of hair. “Absolutely kidding. I love your hair.”

“Thanks.” Harry literally swept Louis off the floor in a hug, squeezing tight, and asked, “Will you go with me to the show?”

Louis couldn’t help, could never help teasing Harry whenever he had a chance. “Why, Harry, are you asking me to be your date? As your boyfriend?”

He put Louis down on the floor, but kept his arms wrapped around him, and pretended to be lost in thought. “No, but... if I was, hypothetically, would you say yes?”

Louis pushed up on his toes for a kiss, because it had been hours since they’d had a chance to kiss properly. Harry tasted like cherries for some reason, even though there hadn’t been anything cherry flavored for him to eat or drink. It was good, though. Kissing Harry was always good. “If you were, hypothetically, then, yes,” Louis answered, “I would, hypothetically, say yes.”

“Okay.” He kissed Louis again, between the eyes this time. “Goodnight, Lou.”

“Goodnight, Shortcake.” When Harry scrunched his nose at the old nickname, Louis just laughed. Louis started calling him it three years ago, when Harry was obsessively going through a strawberry shortcake phase. The first time he did it, Harry’d been nibbling on one during winter, his cheeks and nose just as pink as the cake. “Embrace it, babe. It’s not going away.”

“Dunno why I keep up with you,” he said with a solemn shake of his head. “Go get people sloshed. I’m keeping you to myself tomorrow.”

“Late birthday sex for you tomorrow,” Louis promised, and it prompted a cackled from Harry. “Now, go back inside. Show some manners, H, they’re waiting.”

“Okay, fine, have fun at work.” Louis kissed him again, just because he could, and shoved him towards the door. Harry held on, though, and stole another kiss. “Night, Lou.”

“Night, Haz.”

It was a good birthday.

* * *

The drive to Las Vegas would have taken them a little less than four hours if they didn’t stop along the way, but, of course, they did. It was the five of them stuffed inside Louis’ Honda Accord, windows rolled down for most of the ride. Per Harry’s idea, the only music they could listen to during the five hours they drove had to be related to Vegas. They didn’t all know the lyrics for all the songs, because some of them were so out there, but bless modern technology and instant internet connection. The trip turned into a shitty, impromptu karaoke session, and they belted lyrics from Katy Perry to Elvis to AC/DC.

 _“Don't be a baby, remember what you told me,”_ Harry sang loudly and completely off key, eyes never straying for too long from the road.

 _“Shut up and put your money where your mouth is, that's what you get for waking up in Vegas,”_ Niall shouted from the back, popping his head between the driver’s and passenger’s seat and poking Louis’ cheek. Louis could hear Liam singing just as loudly from behind him, and Zayn was a bit quieter, opting to properly sing the verses instead of screaming the words.

_“Get up and shake the glitter off your clothes, now, that's what you get for waking up in Vegas.”_

Once the finally arrived in Vegas after four stops along the way, they checked into a cheap, dingy motel — Harry and Louis in one room, and Liam, Zayn, and Niall in another. Liam’s a bit of a fifth wheel, they realized about five minutes into the drive, but they couldn’t just _leave_ him in LA, not when this wasn’t a couples holiday or anything. Plus, Louis would’ve felt shit about leaving him behind and Liam would’ve felt neglected and Harry would’ve felt guilty and it would’ve been a shit situation, overall. But when it was time to get rooms, Liam refused to spend the night alone and Harry refused to have him sleep in their room.

“I want a lot of late birthday sex,” he said, like it was the most logical and sound argument in the world. “I deserve birthday sex in Vegas, and I don’t want Liam as an audience.”

Louis didn’t comment on the implication that it sounded like Harry would be okay with someone else watching.

“How come they get to have sex and we don’t?” Niall argued with a scowl on his usually sunny face.

“Because!” Harry actually stomped his foot like a child and glared like a kitten. “It’s my _birthday._ I get to do whatever I want.”

“Okay, first of all, your birthday was a week ago,” Niall pointed out, eyes narrowed. “And, second of all, you’re a selfish, selfish bastard, Harry Styles.”

So, after a bit of bickering back and forth, Liam ended up rooming with Niall and Zayn. It was already past six and the sky was dark, so the five of them found a local diner ordered pizza and chicken wings for dinner. Harry asked for Hawaiian, even though he knew Louis hates it, but since he was still using the birthday excuse, Louis couldn’t really say a lot. Technically, all this _was_ for his birthday, so Louis had to make a conscious effort not to be a dick. That didn’t mean he could bite his tongue completely, though. He still bitched about the pineapple, and Harry just told him to stop stealing the food if he didn’t like it. Thing is, Louis always steals Harry’s food, and vice versa.

Finally fed, they went back to the motel to sleep off the exhaustion from the trip. Harry made a beeline for the bed, falling face-first on the pillow. Louis crowded behind him on the small bed, gathering him in his arms. “Didn’t you say you want ‘a lot of late birthday sex,’ Haz?” Louis said in between kisses he dropped along Harry’s tense shoulder, up the side of his neck, and Harry hummed in agreement.

“I also drove for, like, ten hours to get us here,” Harry replied, but arched his neck to give Louis a better angle. “Can you rock my world after I’ve napped a little, so I don’t fall asleep on you?”  

He sounded genuinely tired, and Louis didn’t like the rigidity in Harry’s shoulders, so he brushed a kiss against the nape of his neck and sat up. “Get on your belly,” he said.

 _“Lou,”_ Harry mumbled, “As much as I’d like for you to fondle my ass, I really wanna just cuddle and sleep together. Like, proper sleep, please.”

“Hm, okay, on your belly, Shortcake.” Louis leaned down and kissed his temple, ran his fingers through Harry’s curls and took pride in the soft sigh that escaped Harry. “Come on, Haz, let me help.” With another sigh, this one being exaggerated and exasperated, Harry rolled onto his stomach and Louis climbed on his back, straddling it. He dropped a kiss between Harry’s shoulder blades before gripping his shoulders and kneading the heels of his palms into the skin, rubbing his thumbs in circles to remove tension. It must have been working, but a minute later, Harry let out a relaxed, blissed out sigh. “Thank you for driving the whole way,” Louis said.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” Harry answered, and Louis knew he’d be out like a light in a second.

“You’re welcome.”

Louis continued rubbing circles in Harry’s shoulders until the knots loosened and they relaxed bit by bit. Louis was pretty sure Harry’d fallen asleep when his muffled voice spoke up. “Hey, Lou?” Louis hummed in response, and Harry continued. “I love you a lot, you know? Like, _a lot,_ a lot. You’re my best friend. My favorite person. You know that, right?” Louis nodded, and his heart was beating painfully hard against his ribs. Harry was always extra affectionate when he was tired and it sometimes left Louis a little speechless. “Even if you won’t ask me to be your boyfriend,” Harry tacked on with a quiet giggle.

 _You already are._ “You will be one day,” Louis whispered, “When you swallow your pride.”

“I always swallow,” he said seriously, and Louis laughed out loud. “No, but, really. Love you.”

Louis kept easing the tension around Harry’s neck, but leaned down to kiss the back of his head. Harry was quiet after that, and his breathing slowly evened out. Louis slid off Harry’s and laid down beside him, throwing an arm over his naked back and kissed his exposed cheek, right under his closed eye. “You’re my favorite person, too.”

▵▾▵

Louis woke up with Harry’s body half on top him, lips gently dragging across his collarbone and leaving goosebumps. Louis immediately wrapped his arms around the small of Harry’s back, holding him closer, and Harry smiled against his skin. “Good morning,” he murmured, even though there was no light filtering in through the windows and Louis was fairly certain it was not morning. “Would you like to go with me and get a tattoo?”

Louis tilted his head to the side, searching, and Harry’s lips found his in an instant, soft and slow and absolutely wonderful. He’d brushed his teeth already, which couldn’t be said about Louis. But tattoos, he’d mentioned. Tattoos. Louis wasn’t a tattoo man. They were fascinating on other people, whether it be a pointless doodle or something deep and sentimental, but they weren’t for Louis. He didn’t have that sort of commitment to anything. But he humored Harry, anyway.

“What’d you have in mind?” he asked.

“A shortcake,” Harry answered, pulling back just enough to look at Louis, and his green eyes were sparkling with childlike mischief, like he knew something no else did. “On my funny bone.” He tried holding back his giggle and failed miserably, laughing into Louis’ chest.

“Oh, I thought you’d say something very meaningful for me to get,” Louis joked, bringing a hand up to card through Harry’s hair. It’s one of his favorite things to do, honestly.

“Well,” Harry hedged, his fingers moving in nonsensical ways on Louis’ skin. “I was thinking... I don’t know, you don’t have to get it, I was just thinking we could...” He shook his head, mouth turned down at the corners. “Actually, never mind, it’s not a big deal.”

“Hey. What is it?” Louis prodded, because even if he didn’t want tattoos, he didn’t like when Harry had to hold himself back in front of Louis, didn’t want Harry to feel like he couldn’t tell Louis things. He tugged at a lock of Harry’s hair and met his hesitant gaze, so unlike the Harry from two minutes ago. “Won’t you tell me?”

Harry blinked at Louis several times, his gaze almost shy, before putting his head down on Louis’ chest and hiding his face. “I know it’s, like, a lot, probably, and you don’t have to do it, but... I was looking at our constellations, right? Like, our zodiac constellations. And I was thinking about getting yours on my collarbone, or something. Maybe on my back between my shoulder, I don’t know. It’s kind of stupid, I know, but —”

“Hey, babe, no,” Louis interrupted him, because he hates when Harry puts himself down. “It’s not stupid. Don’t say that.”

“You don’t think it’s a lot? Harry asked, and Louis really just wanted to see his face, wanted to know what he was thinking.

“Of course, it’s a lot, H, it’s a tattoo. They’re kind of a forever thing, you know. But that doesn’t make it stupid.”

“I know we’re not, like...” Harry moved then, propped his chin over Louis’ heart and looked at Louis. “I know we have that stupid fucking bet, and we’re not, like, _dating,_ or whatever, but, Lou, you have to know you’re kind of my forever thing.” His lips quirked into a hint of a smile. “Scared, Tommo?” His hand lightly pressed down on Louis’ chest, and Louis knew he could feel the way Louis’ heart had just skipped a beat.

“You’re a lot, you know,” Louis whispered, trying to calm his racing heart. “In the best possible way, you are so much, Harry. Sometimes you do things or say things, or even just look at me a certain way, and I genuinely forget how to breathe. You make me forget how to breathe.”

“Is that good or bad?” Harry asked, hopeful, his cheeks tinted with the loveliest pink.

“Definitely good,” Louis said, oh so fond, and Harry beamed at him.”When are we getting you inked?” And if Harry’s face fell a little bit at the _you,_ Louis tried not to feel guilty about it.

“There’s a parlor, like, twenty minutes away, if we walk,” Harry said, “Closes around midnight, I think, and it’s...” He patted the space behind him until he found his phone and glanced at the time. “It’s just past 9:30, if you wanna go now.”

“Wanna get the boys? It can be an adventure.”

Harry shook his head. “Just want you.”

“You’re a sap,” Louis said, but he was smiling, and Harry was blushing, and it was wonderful.

▵▾▵

They didn’t drive to the tattoo parlor. Even though they were six days into February, Las Vegas at night was still far from freezing. Louis had on a jacket, though, because he gets cold easily, but Harry was just in a plain black shirt, and it had at least three holes in it. Instead, they walked through the streets of Las Vegas hand in hand, stopping occasionally to take pictures to show their mothers. The city was bustling with energy and Louis felt wide awake, buzzing with excitement and anticipation.

The parlor, surprisingly, wasn’t that crowded. Or, maybe it shouldn’t have been that surprising. Louis didn’t know when people usually tend to get tattoos, but, regardless. It was a fairly quiet and quaint little place. The woman working the place, Dolly, was probably the same age as Louis’ mum, if not older, and she talked to Harry warmly, listening to his ideas about the shortcake tattoo and sketching different possible options. While the two of them talked, Louis wandered the parlor, curious, and studied the numerous designs on display. There were so many complimentary designs, things people should probably only get after they’ve been together for, like, five decades, or something. And it wasn’t that Louis was afraid of commitment, or anything. Whenever he and Harry decided to move past their little bet and properly define what they are, Louis was sure he’d be in it for the long haul. Hell, he already _was_ in it for good, as far as he was concerned.

Tattoos were just, well, a little daunting. Just a tiny bit.

A little while later, Harry called Louis over as Dolly led them to a secluded section of the parlor, almost like a private booth. It had a black leather chair for Harry to sit in and a table set up with Dolly’s supplies. Louis crouched on the floor next to Harry, fiddling absently with Harry’s fingers and peeling the chipped pink varnish off his nails.

“This one might hurt like a bitch,” Dolly warned with a breezy chuckle, and Louis blinked up at Harry, who grinned back dopily.

“I can take it,” he said simply, and curled his hand around Louis’, who squeezed back. Dolly was prepping the inside of Harry’s elbow, and Louis honestly wasn’t sure how painful that spot is for getting tattoos, but Harry had a fairly high tolerance. Certainly higher than Louis. “It’s on my funny bone,” Harry explained to Louis again, and he was biting down on an eager smile. “Like, not actually on it, but that’s where the bone starts, but it’s not actually funny, you know?” When Louis held back his amused laugh, Harry pouted and pinched Louis’ finger. “Forget it. You’re a buzzkill.”

“You’re very funny,” Louis said seriously, but Harry just rolled his eyes at him.

He chatted with Dolly as she explained to him what she was doing, and it wasn’t Harry’s first time, but it was still comforting for Louis to hear what was happening. When Dolly finally started on the tiny slice of cake Harry had decided on, just a simple black outline, he gripped Louis’ hand tightly, his knuckles almost white. It hurt, a little, because Harry had a _strong_ grip, but Louis gave him a squeeze and brought it up to kiss his knuckles. He was still chatting away with Dolly, and no one would ever be able to tell how much he was crushing Louis’ poor hand.

“We should’ve done the other one first,” Dolly said at one point, which made Louis raise his eyebrows at Harry.

“You’re getting two?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m... I’m doing the constellation, too,” Harry said, eyes fixed on the tattoo gun, his cheeks burning crimson under the bright lights.

But Louis’ mind was fixed on what Harry had just said, because hadn’t he said earlier that he wanted them both to get the constellations? Hadn’t he said he wanted them to match? “Didn’t you want us to get those together?” Louis asked quietly, and Harry looked at him then, bottom lip pulled between his teeth.

“Do you?”

Did he? It wasn’t such an outrageous thing, after all. He wasn’t tattooing Harry’s name on his ass, though even that wouldn’t be much of an exaggeration. It was just a cluster of stars, something to remind of Harry at all time whenever he looked at it. “Would you do it without me?” he asked, just to see what Harry would say.

“You’re my forever kind of thing, remember?”

Louis did. He ignored the way his heart stuttered in its rhythm and Louis found himself asking, “Where do you want it?”

Harry beamed, absolutely fucking _glowed_ at Louis’ words, his pupils blown, and he pointed at the corner of his hand, right where his palm met his wrist. “I’ll hold a little piece of you, of the universe, in the palm of my hand, everywhere I go.”  

And Louis would be the goddamn biggest fucking liar if he said he didn’t die a little at that. “Hey, Dolly,” he said, “You think you can do another doodle tonight?”

Dolly _tsked,_ but there was laughter in her tone. She didn’t pause or look up from her work when she answered, but Louis could see her mouth twitch into a smile. “You know, my last two appointments for tonight got cancelled, so I was looking forward to going home,” she said, and glanced up to smile warmly at Louis. “But I suppose I can stay another half hour, for the sake of young love.”

“Oh, Dolly, please,” Harry giggled, then bit his lip to stay still, and visibly winced. Louis moved his thumb in circles over Harry’s knuckles, hoping to distract him from some of the pain. “We aren’t lovers. I mostly just tolerate him at best.”

“You know, I have a daughter like you,” Dolly said fondly, “Teases her girlfriend to hell and back, but I swear, if someone else dares say a word, it’s game over for them. I was a lot like that, too, actually. Go figure.”  

“Are you married?” Harry asked, and then his eyes widened just a tiny bit, like he regretted the question as soon as it left his mouth. He was like that, sometimes. Usually, Harry took his time with words and thought about everything he said, but sometimes he blurted things without much of a filter, and it was always amusing to watch. “I’m sorry if that was rude, you don’t have to answer that, of course, I just —”

“Been together almost thirty-two years,” Dolly cut him off with another smile. “That’s probably a decade longer than you’ve been alive”

“He’s a baby,” Louis interjected. _My baby._ “Just turned twenty-one, like, five days ago.”

“How precious. Welcome to real adulthood,” Dolly laughed at the same time that Harry let out an indignant _heyyyy._

They kept talking while Dolly finished up the tattoo, and it was nice, Louis thought. He hadn’t planned this when he’d been thinking about Vegas, had never thought he’d end up in a tattoo parlor at 10 p.m. and get matching fucking tattoos, but it was nice. When Dolly starting prepping for Harry’s other tattoo, because she already had the stencil ready, Harry showed Louis the design he’d picked. It was a small triangle, with probably fifteen or so prominent dots — stars — connected by tiny ones. Louis also saw the Aquarius constellation he would be getting, and it kind of looked like a three-legged animal, or something. The design had fourteen stars (Louis counted), and it was small enough to fit the tiny corner of Louis’ palm.

When Harry was done and bandaged up, and Louis had signed some papers and made his payment, and Dolly was working on Louis’ stencil, Harry scooted to one side of the chair and patted the space next to him for Louis to sit. “You don’t have to get one, you know,” he said quietly just for Louis to hear, “I don’t mind, I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

Louis knocked their shoulders together and shook his head, poking Harry’s cheek playfully. “Oh, no. No way. You don’t get to do this on your own and make me feel left out.”

“But tattoos are a forever kind of thing, you said so yourself,” Harry reminded him, but he crossed their ankles together as he said it.

Louis shrugged, nonchalant, even though he was feeling anything but. “And you’re my forever kind of thing, so. Guess we’re stuck.”

Dolly came back a few minutes later and Harry slid off the chair, letting Louis get comfortable as Dolly cleaned up his hand, and leaned against the chair. “First time, huh,” Dolly said, and it really wasn’t a question. Louis’ skin was a clean slate.

“The things I do for him,” Louis said with faux exasperation.

“But he won’t ask me to be his boyfriend,” Harry complained, and Louis had to bit his lip hard to keep from laughing.

Dolly must have been taken aback by this, though, because she stared at them with bewildered brown eyes. “I’ll be damned,” she said, awestruck, “I was sure you’ve been together a while.”

Before Harry could give a nonsense answer and charm her, Louis jumped in. “Listen, Dolly,” he said, and squeezed Harry’s hand tight, because, _holy shit,_ that was a nasty sting. He bit the inside of his cheek before continuing. “So, our friends and us made a bet, right? About who would kiss who first? Well, I was a goner and I caved in and kissed this one first, and I lost that bet. All because I wanted to kiss him so much. But he can’t be arsed to get over himself and ask _me_ to be his boyfriend, so we can be even and move on with life.”

 _“Hey.”_ Harry sounded like he always did when he was slightly offended, and if Louis didn’t have a tattoo gun on his hand, he was sure he’d have gotten a light punch in the shoulder. As it was, Harry just kicked his shin. “You’re just a sore loser.”

“Uh, no? I just want us to be even.”

“Yeah, okay,” Harry scoffed.

Dolly told them about her wife, whom she met when she was seventeen and married when she was forty-three, when Vermont legalized same-sex marriage in 2009. They adopted their first baby when she was  twenty-seven, and then again when she was thirty-one. “Hannah’s very much a lesbian, she came out to us five years ago, when she was seventeen. Reminded me so much of myself. And the other day, Hugo was talking to Mila — my wife — about this boy he likes. His first crush on a boy. He had a girlfriend a while ago, poor thing is starting to figure himself out, slowly.”

Harry pressed a kiss to the crown of Louis’ head, and when Louis looked up at him, Harry just smiled down affectionately, his eyes warm and sparkling. “Love you,” he mouthed, and Louis felt his heart flutter in his chest.

Dolly talked more, answered Harry’s curious questions about Hannah and Hugo, almost like she was an old family friend catching up with them and telling them about her children, and not a random tattoo artist they met an hour ago. In turn, Harry and Louis told her about coming to Vegas for Harry’s birthday, how their three friends were asleep in a dingy motel room. It was nice, though. It distracted Louis from the incessant sting of the needle repeatedly breaking through his skin.

When Dolly finished, she let Louis look his fill before wrapping his hand in a bandage. Harry looked, too, and his smile was so wide, it was a wonder his face didn’t break in half. “It’s gorgeous,” Louis said honestly, even though the skin around it was an angry pink and it was hard to tell, but Dolly was good. He knew when the redness subsided, it’d look stunning. “Thank you,” he said, but he wasn’t sure if he was talking to Harry or Dolly. Both, maybe.

It was nearing midnight when Harry and Louis said goodbye to Dolly and left the tattoo parlor, their uninked hands clasped together. Louis felt like he was walking on cloud nine, an unfamiliar feeling on euphoria settling in his chest. Even when he shouldn’t have been, he was hyper aware of the stars burned into his palm for the rest of his life. It felt _good,_ like he was always meant to carry a piece of Harry with him.

Louis had every intention of going back to sleep, even though he wasn’t particularly tired, but once they got undressed and slipped into bed, sleeping any time soon wasn’t an option.

“I wanna count the stars on your back,” Harry whispered in the semi dark room, “Wanna trace them with my lips.” He flipped Louis onto his stomach. He took his sweet time prepping Louis with his fingers, feeling the delicious heat; they both shivered with anticipation, until Harry fucked Louis slow and deep, losing his rhythm every so often to kiss down the length of Louis’ back, tracing patterns with his fingertips down the curves and lines of the body he knew so well, leaving purple reminders of their night with his mouth. When Louis’ back arched with pleasure and white danced behind his eyelids, he clenched around Harry, who rolled him over onto his back, albeit a little clumsily. “Hey,” he pressed his lips to Louis’ cheek. “Look at me, please.” His voice came out deep and raspy and it took a minute for Louis’ eyes to adjust, for him to get lost in the muted green of Harry’s. “You carry all the stars with you, Lou,” he murmured, brushing the tips of his fingers along Louis’ cheeks, over the freckles that Louis knew he was so fond of. He was moving his hips torturously slow, but it was driving Louis closer and closer to the edge, arousal curling low in his gut, and Louis thought he might explode with it. “Come for me, love.” And that was it.

It happened again, and then again with Harry writhing beneath Louis, leaving crescent-shaped marks on Louis’ back, and it kept happening until Harry couldn’t move, could barely form Louis’ name.

“Five more minutes,” he mumbled into Louis’ hair, body soft and pliant under Louis’, his arms wound lazily around the small of Louis’ back. He promised to have a go again later, but they were both dazed and exhausted and fell asleep just like that — naked and tangled on top of the cheap motel sheets.

* * *

On Saturday, Louis found himself driving around the streets of Las Vegas with the boys. It was way past appropriate breakfast time when they finally woke up, so the five of them found an IHOP and ordered burgers with fries and onion rings and hashbrowns. No trip to IHOP was complete without pancakes, so, of course, they got blueberry pancakes for everyone, and red velvet for Zayn.

Speaking of Zayn, his boyfriend was extra cranky, occasionally shooting daggers at Harry. Louis would’ve said something, asked what the problem was, but the thing is, he knew. He knew exactly why Niall had his panties in a twist and he found the silent moodiness kind of amusing. Harry, however, was an instigator through and through, so Louis wasn’t the least bit surprised when he finally cracked.

“Something you’d like to say to me, Niall?” he asked with a raised brow, an onion ring held between his thumb and forefinger.

“Nah, I don’t think you left anything unsaid last night,” Niall quipped back, and gave a tight smile.

“Excuse me?” Louis knew Harry was just pushing him now, seeing how far he could go before Niall snapped and starting cursing them out right there.

Niall put down his burger rather forcefully on the plate, his eyes stormy as he glared at Harry. “You know, _some_ of us were trying to sleep, but we really couldn’t, not when we could hear you getting wrecked through the paper thin wall. Not to mention, I had to share my boyfriend with Liam, which wouldn’t be that weird, but that reception lady probably thinks we were starting a brothel in her place. All because you brought an odd number of people.” By the time he finished ranting, his entire face was crimson.

Louis was holding back laughter, Liam looked slightly offended, and Zayn looked just mildly embarrassed.

“Well,” Harry shrugged, unbothered, and winked at Louis, tangling their ankles together. Niall was right, though; Harry looked absolutely ravished, bruises littering the sides of his neck and collarbones, trailing down to his chest and disappearing under his plaid shirt. He was marked in places no one else would see. “It’s my birthday, I told you I wanted loads of birthday sex.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Harry, it’s not your birthday anymore,” Niall huffed, and shoved a bite in his mouth.

“Hey!” Louis couldn’t help himself. He was too defensive when it came to Harry, sometimes. “Be nice to him.”

“Yeah, Niall, be nice to me,” Harry parrotted, face too innocent to be genuine.

Niall continued glaring at Harry every few seconds and Zayn scooted closer to him, whispering things Louis couldn’t hear. Liam looked conflicted, absolutely fucking torn, and Louis felt a little sorry for having dragged him out here, but there was no way he was being left behind in LA.

“We’ll get you laid tonight,” Louis whispered to Liam, who elbowed him in the ribs, and most of the tension was diffused just like that. Niall still looked a bit pissy, but he was glaring less and less the more Zayn talked to him. When they were leaving and Louis held his hand out for Harry, he was ignored entirely.

Harry nudged his way between Zayn and Niall, looking expectantly at Zayn, who was trying to cling to Niall’s arm. “Bit of privacy, please?” Harry asked, shooing Zayn away and walking ahead with Niall. He had his arm thrown around Niall’s shoulders, the other probably wrapped around Niall’s front. The two of them were a few paces ahead of the others, so Louis couldn’t hear what either of them were saying, but he knocked his shoulder into Zayn’s.

“He’s gonna steal your man,” Louis warned, jokingly, of course. But just then, Niall let out a honking laugh as he and Harry stumbled, just barely catching themselves and staying upright. “No, he really might,” Louis said, voice more serious this time. And that was definitely a bitter twinge of jealousy he was feeling.

 _That’s Niall,_ he had to remind himself, _you’re not fucking allowed to be jealous of Niall._

But Zayn was feeling something similar, because he took two long steps and peeled Harry’s arm away, smiling in a very un-Zayn-like way. “Mind if I have my boyfriend back?” he asked Harry, who gave a dimpled smile.

“What’d you say to him?” Louis asked when Harry fell into step next to him, curious about what made Niall laugh like that.

“None of your business,” Harry replied happily and pulled Louis tight against his side, turning his head to brush a kiss against Louis’ temple.

They ended up roaming the busy streets of Vegas, stopping randomly at different shops until Liam said he wanted to ride the Big Apple Coaster and Niall agreed, but Zayn would sooner give up sex than drop from two hundred feet, so Louis stayed with him while the other three got in line. It would be a long wait, Louis knew, so he and Zayn left the place in favor of The Lobby Bar a few minutes away. Neither of them were big on day drinking, but both were huge fans of video games, so they sat at the bar sipping martinis and switching between Mario Kart and Fortnight.

It was an hour later that Harry texted him.

_Can we please ditch the boys for a while? I want some Louis Time_

And, yes, Louis wasn’t opposed to the idea of being alone with Harry for a while.

 **What do you have in mind?** he texted back.

_It’s a surprise ;) meet us back here?_

**Hmmm okay , be there in 20**

So, they paid their tab (which was far too expensive for just a handful of drinks, to be frank), and walked back to the Arcade parking lot, where the boys were waiting by the car. They looked a right mess, honestly, with their windswept hair and rumpled clothes and pink cheeks. You’d think they’d just gotten caught in the middle of a threesome, or something, instead of getting off from a rollercoaster.

“Okay, so,” Harry said with a clap of his hands when he spotted Louis and Zayn approaching. “You boys find something to do, because Lou and I have a date to go on.”

They did? It was news to Louis, but he kept his mouth shut and let Harry latch onto his arm.

“Why did you even bring us?” Liam asked, brows knitted together in a tiny scowl. “Like, if you were just gonna spend the whole time doing coupley things, alone, then why make us come, too?”

“Silly Liam, we’re all gonna find a bar tonight and get smashed. Have the time of our lives,” Harry said.

Liam and Niall still looked like kicked puppies, and Louis had to admit maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to have them tag along if they were just going to wait on Harry and Louis to be finished with their own little things. But he knew they would’ve given him hell if they hadn’t been invited, so he didn’t feel too guilty about it. They said their goodbyes and Harry led Louis away from the trio, who called dibs on the car. They walked hand in hand, which were still kind of sore from last night. But the tattoos looked good, looked fucking fantastic, actually, and Louis brought them up to his lips to kiss along Harry’s knuckles.

“Where’re we going?” he asked when Harry didn’t say anything. The sun was shining down too bright even for Vegas, given it was February, and Louis thought he might be starting to sweat. Nothing he could do about that now, though.  

“A magical place,” Harry said cryptically, swinging their hands between them. He looked so happy, so genuinely delighted and lively, with his blushing cheeks and bright eyes and dimpley smiles and flowy hair, it made Louis’ heart constrict a little bit, made it lose its rhythm just for a second.

Louis squeezed his hand once and bumped their hips together, making Harry giggle. “Are you having fun?”

Harry made a quiet sound of agreement, leading Louis through a small crowd. “Best weekend of my life, honestly.” He stopped them right there on the street corner, and kissed Louis, bringing both hands up to either side of Louis’ face. His thumb dragged across Louis’ cheek, soft as a feather, when he whispered, “Thank you.”

 _Make him yours, ask him now,_ a part of Louis screamed at him, _tell him he’s yours._

“I’m gonna take you to New York for your birthday,” Harry said, almost like he knew exactly what Louis was thinking. “We’ll spend the New Year’s there and watch the ball drop.”

What that meant was, _I’m yours and we’ll start all the new years together._

They’d barely turned the corner when Louis saw where they were going, and he burst out laughing. “Harry, oh my god, babe.” He didn’t even try to contain his laughter, and pulled Harry in for a hug. “Oh, you big baby, I adore you.”

There, across the street, was the bright green-blue M&M World.

They were offered a free 3-D movie showing, a short ten minute something about Red and Yellow that Harry wasn’t all that interested in. He made a beeline for the gift shop, but changed his mind halfway there dragged Louis towards the escalators leading up to another floor. It had a mural of M&M’s over the years, Harry explained. “I dare you to just dangle from the railing all the way up,” Harry said when they were four steps away from the escalators.

“Fifty bucks?”

“Deal.”

Louis untangled his fingers from Harry’s and stepped to the side of the escalators, putting his hand over the railing railing and gripping it tightly with his palm. He didn’t know if it would work, but it couldn’t be that hard, right? He let his hand and feet be dragged at the railed moved upward, and a moment later, he felt his feet lift from the floor, and then he was dangling two feet in the air, holding onto the railing. “Lou,” Harry giggled, and leaned over to look down at the distance between Louis’ feet and the floor. “You’re a fucking idiot, Jesus,” Harry snickered, and Louis could hear people laughing behind them. He hoped someone down there had no problem invading people’s privacy and was recording the whole debacle.

“Pay up, Harold,” Louis said, eyeing the bars quickly getting closer to him and grabbing onto them to hoist himself over and land onto tiled floor.

Harry smirked at him, the little shit. “I’m saving money for later, but I’ll give you fifty kisses.” He held Louis’ face in both hands and started peppering it with quick, wet smooches, making Louis squirm and giggle.

“Fuck off, Haz,” he laughed, and Harry just hugged him tight for a moment before walking them away from the edge of the escalators. Harry led them to a large wall and the entirety of it was dedicated to (surprise!) M&M’s and how they changed over time. They were all there, Green and Red and Brown and Blue, all with little tidbits about each color.

“You know, Green and Brown are lesbians?” Harry commented casually at one point.

“You do talk some shit sometimes, Harry,” Louis said. “How would you even know that? They’re tiny balls of chocolate.”

“I think they’re more like spheres, to be honest,” Harry corrected him, like that was the thing that mattered here. “But I read it on Twitter, Ms. Green and Ms. Brown are each other’s significant others. They’re gay, Louis.”

“You’re an idiot, Harry.”

They walked around for a few minutes after that, just looking at the mural and making stupid as fuck jokes, before they were approached by a kid. He was probably fifteen, if not younger, and he smiled amiably at Louis. “Hey, um, I’m Brooklyn. You’re the one who kind of, like, levitated up the escalators, right?”

“The one and only,” Louis barked out a laugh, and clapped his hand down before his hyena cackle could ring through the space.

“Could I, um, is it okay if I put it on Youtube? Like, if you don’t mind?”

Louis grinned. Bless the youth and their obsession with filming everything. “Only if you send it to me first,” Louis said. The kid beamed and turned on his phone right there and handed it to Louis, asking him to put in his number so he could text it to Louis.

“Thank you so much,” Brooklyn said. “Have a great day, it was nice to meet you.”

“You too, bud,” Louis said. Brooklyn left, and Louis turned to Harry, lips twitching with a smile. “I’m gonna be an internet sensation.”

“People are going to laugh at you, Lou, and how utterly stupid you are.”

“Whatever, mate, you’re just jealous it wasn’t you.”

Harry just rolled his eyes.

After that they headed for the personalized printer. Harry had done his research, apparently, because Louis hadn’t even known this place existed, let alone what services it provided. The entire place just looked like it got puked on by about a million buckets of M&M’s, but Louis couldn’t complain too much because mostly everything was rainbow colored. The person working the printer wasn’t much older than Harry and Louis, probably a bit younger, if Louis had to guess, and unsurprisingly, there was a waiting line.

“How long have you been waiting to come here?” Louis asked Harry when they were in line, because there was no way Harry just spontaneously thought of spending time here.

Harry curled his fingers in Louis’ belt loops, letting his hands rest there. “Well, you told me where in Vegas, so I started looking at what we can do, and found this. I couldn’t just — we couldn’t just _not_ come when it’s right here, you know. I mean, look at this place.”

“You’re a baby,” Louis said affectionately, because he was so fucking endeared. He leaned back into Harry’s body and let his head roll against Harry’s shoulder, craning his own a little to kiss Harry’s neck. “You’re an actual baby.”

“Hmm, yours though.”

“Always mine,” Louis murmured.

After who knows how long, when it was finally their turn, the girl working introduced herself as Alex and talked them through the endless options for what they could do — colors, symbols, characters, etcetera etcetera. Louis asked for a handful of things, including but not limited to: _niall_ ♡ _zayn, lima bean, harry_ ♡ _louis, i_ ♡ _liam._ It didn’t take very long for his little package to be ready.

Harry, however, had other ideas for the poor girl. “Could you please, um, have it say — you can put it on two different ones, if it’s too long, but, um, can it say, ‘ask me to be your boyfriend,’ please?”

Louis jabbed his elbow into Harry’s side, because, of course, he’d find a way to embarrass Louis here. But Alex just laughed, asked Harry what colors he’d like, and got to work.

“You’re a menace,” Louis told Harry. When he got his M&M’s, he looked like he was contemplating something important, and soon as Louis realized what, he narrowed his eyes. “I swear, Harold, if you get down on one knee, I _will_ kill you.”

“Well, would you get over yourself and just ask me then?”

“Hm, cute — and tempting — but no.” Louis patted his cheek when he pouted in that adorable way.

“I’d ask you,” Alex said, “I mean, if it makes you feel better, I’d ask you.”

Harry grinned, looking between Alex and Louis, who was starting to feel unfairly annoyed with the girl. He put his hand on the small of Harry’s back, letting his fingers dig into the soft flesh. If Harry’s blinding smile was anything to go by, Louis knew his jealousy was showing. “Thanks, love,” Harry smiled at her warmly, “but I’ll stick to this one. He’s rather grown on me.”

An utter dipshit, is what Harry was, and Louis loved him to bits and pieces.

Once Harry had everything he wanted, they found themselves in the giftshop, and Louis honestly thought he was standing in one of his little siblings’ coloring books. There was so much _stuff,_ everything M &M themed, which, okay, not at all surprising, considering where they were, but still. There was so _much_ of it. From different assortments of candy bags and shelves full of M &M’s to shirts and sweaters and mugs and bowls to keychains and plushies to a fucking life size _car._

Harry lost his goddamn mind, picking out matching blue and green shirts for them both, despite Louis telling him not to. They ended up with two fucking kilos of M&M’s, essentially a goddamn rainbow of M&M shaped pillows and two matching blankets, and mugs. Harry did _not_ need six mugs, but they walked out carrying five ceramic mugs wrapped in plain brown paper.

Before they left, though, Harry found a little stage set up with with four of the M&M’s — Blue, Green, Yellow, Red — and it was quite possibly the most disturbing thing Louis had ever seen in his entire life. They were seated on a sofa like actual fucking people and it was terrifying, to say the least, but Harry seemed delighted by it. He charmed a middle aged woman into agreeing to take a photo of them, even though Louis was trying his hardest to squirm away and act like he didn’t know Harry, but Harry kept a tight grip on Louis’ waist. He tried getting Louis to kneel in front of them, like they were fucking five years old, but Louis stayed firmly rooted to his spot on the side, and Harry sighed dramatically before smiling at the stranger who snapped their photo. If he never saw it, he wouldn’t complain.

As fate would have, though, Harry immediately set it as his lock screen and shoved his phone in Louis’ face, and Louis had no choice but to stare directly at the photo. If he ignored the nightmarish group of life size M&M’s behind them, it was a good photo. Despite his wariness, the fondness in Louis’ eyes was palpable and Harry looked absolutely mesmerized, eyes bright and dimples cratering his cheeks. Louis loved it, but no one needed to know.

▵▾▵

They were at a bar and Louis couldn’t for the life of him recall what it was called. He was quite drunk, well past just slightly tipsy, and quickly approaching his limit. He was probably about two or three drinks away from doing something stupid, but it was okay, because Zayn was the designated driver and poor kid had just been sipping a coke the entire time. Liam and Niall were playing darts, and Liam was winning, of course, and Zayn was cheering Niall on, rewarding every successful shot with a kiss. Harry was sitting at the bar with Louis, slowly sipping a vodka martini, because he could finally do so legally. It looked really fucking fruity, not that Louis had any right to judge, given his own daiquiri, which was probably more fruit than alcohol, to be honest.

“But what would I have to do?” Harry was saying, continuing their months old conversation. He had his chin propped on his palm, and he was gazing intently at Louis. “Like, give me an example.”

“I dunno, Haz, ‘s not like you’re actually gonna do any of it,” Louis shrugged, because, of course, Harry would. He’d do a lot of things, Louis knew , but nothing truly _wild_ enough to get Louis to give in and lose another bet.

“Try me, babe,” Harry challenged, running his blue-tinted tongue across cherry red lips.

Louis looked around the crowded bar, seeking out potential people who might work, but not really paying much attention to it all. He was humoring Harry again, but that was it. It wasn’t like Harry would do it. Louis caught a man’s eye, probably a couple of years older than him, and no. Not with the way the man raised his eyebrow suggestively. Not a man. His eyes landed on a girl in a long-sleeved black dress with its shoulders cut off and Louis nodded towards her. “Go kiss her and I’ll ask you,” he said, and regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth, because what? Of course, he wouldn’t ask, and of course, Harry wouldn’t kiss someone else. At the very least, he wouldn’t do it in front of Louis.

“You want me to kiss somebody else?” Harry asked, like he was sure he’d misheard, and that’s exactly what Louis expected. Louis took a sip of his drink, revelling in the coolness that ran down his throat, and nodded. Harry slid off his stool and moved right into Louis’ personal space, standing in between his thighs and resting his hands at Louis’ hips. With his lips brushing against the shell of Louis’ ear, Harry whispered, “You want me to go and kiss someone else in front of you?” A shiver tiptoed down Louis’ spine at those words.

“You won’t,” Louis whispered back, but unlike Harry, his voice came out unsteady.

Harry’s fingertips slipped under Louis’ shirt and grazed the sensitive skin there, making Louis squirm. “Wanna bet?”

“Oh, for fucks sake, enough bets,” Louis rolled his eyes, and let his own hands slip into the back pockets of Harry’s jeans. The hitch in Harry’s breath was all he wanted. “Kiss her or don’t, it’s up to you.”

Harry pulled back enough to stare down at Louis, dark eyes boring into Louis’ own, and suddenly Louis wished he could turn back time and undo the last few minutes. Harry dropped a kiss to Louis’ forehead with a whispered _Be ready to make me your boyfriend,_ before stepping away and turning his back on Louis, walking across the room to where the girl was standing with a small group of people. Louis watched, feeling something ugly twist and uncurl in his gut, as Harry approached the girl and easily engaged her in conversation. She was smiling at him, obviously not at all opposed to his company, and Louis didn’t like the way it made him feel, the way his skin felt too hot and tingly.

Then the girl looked over Harry’s shoulder and met Louis’ eye, dropping hers in a wink before wrapping her arms around Harry’s neck and pulling him down to her height, and Louis thought he might actually throw up if he had to watch someone else’s mouth on Harry’s, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away, either. His eyes were glued to Harry’s back and the way his palms rested on the nameless girl’s waist, and he wanted to drag Harry away, kiss himself senseless until all he could remember was Louis’ name.

_Mine mine mine_

Harry let her go finally, but didn’t turn immediately. The fucker stood there and talked to her for a full minute before giving her a quick hug and turning around slowly, walking back towards the bar. Louis’ mind was fuzzy from alcohol, and all he could think about was someone else touching Harry when they had no right. He was _Louis’._ Harry came and wordlessly stood in front of Louis, spreading Louis’ knees apart to step in between them.

“Ask me,” Harry said hoarsely, pupils blown so much the green in his eyes was barely visible.

“You kissed her,” Louis said, because he couldn’t fucking think about anything else. _Harry kissed her._

The corners of Harry’s mouth turned downward, just a bit. “Not that,” he frowned, “ask me what you promised.”

“You kissed her,” Louis repeated.

This time Harry brought his hand to the back of Louis’ neck, leaning into Louis and whispering, “You told me to.”

“You’re mine,” Louis breathed, and he didn’t care if it made him sound possessive and clingy. Harry was _his._ He arched his back and leaned up, seeking out Harry’s mouth and breathed in his blueberry taste, their lips brushing together in the faintest whisper of a touch.

“Kiss me,” Harry murmured, his breath hot against Louis’ and Louis locked his ankles around Harry’s knees. “Kiss me and tell me you’re mine.” Louis leaned up and pressed their lips together, trying to wash away the taste of cherries that didn’t belong to Harry. It was a messy kiss, desperate and breathy and it made Louis dizzy, the way Harry licked into his mouth and bit at his lips. “Tell me I’m yours, Louis.”

“Mine forever,” Louis promised, and the words fell off his tongue in a whimper when Harry’s hand ghosted over his crotch.

“Mean it,” Harry said, and trailed a series of kisses down the side of Louis’ neck, pausing to suck a mark under his jaw. “Do it for real this time, Lou, ‘s all I want.” When Louis tugged him back up by the hair, Harry let out the prettiest, most obscene noise Louis had ever heard. “Be my forever. Marry me.”

 Louis stopped breathing. His heart skipped a beat, stuttered, and then stopped fucking beating, because what did Harry just say? “What did you just say?”

“Let’s get married, Lou,” Harry said, and there wasn’t a hint of teasing in his voice, not the slightest possibility that he was joking.

“You wouldn’t,” Louis said, because what? He would, Louis knew he would marry Harry in a heartbeat, was already planning on spending the rest of his life with Harry, but what? Harry was _twenty-one,_ just barely twenty-one.

“Wanna bet?” Harry asked with a glazed smile.

“Yes, actually,” Louis said, because he was fucking drunk and Harry was looking at him like he hung up every damn star in the sky.

Harry took his right hand then, clasped their palms so their tattoos pressed together and smiled crookedly at Louis, eyes glittering. “Our stars are aligned, Lou,” he whispered, and if his words slurred a little bit, then who cared? Not Louis. Harry traced half a circle on Louis’ thigh, kissed his cheek, and said, “Let’s go and make the moon our home.”

 _The moon,_ Louis thought, _he’s tracing the moon on my leg._

Harry pulled Louis to his feet, dragged him over to where Liam and Niall were throwing darts at the wall, and said to Zayn, “Can you marry us?”

Zayn blinked at them, lowering the can of coke from his lips. “Excuse me?”

“We’re getting married,” Harry said, and because they were drunk and they were getting married, Louis reached up on his toes and kissed him, just a tiny peck. “Do you wanna do the honors and marry us?”

“How drunk are you?” Niall asked as he threw another dart.

“Really, very, very drunk,” Harry giggled, “But you know what else we are? In love and getting married.”

“Zaynie, please,” Louis pleaded, and reached for Zayn’s arm, who was blinking slowly. “You can do it,” Louis said, because Zayn was ordained. It happened years ago, when Louis was in high school and their senior prank had been staging a wedding in the main hallway for two girls, and Zayn had gotten ordained online to make it as real as possible. Louis didn’t know if those girls were actually married, but Zayn could legally marry Harry and Louis. He definitely could. They just had to drive to a chapel or a church.

“Niall and Liam can be our witnesses,” Harry chimed in.       

That’s how they ended up driving to a cheap motel with a twenty-four hour chapel. Zayn drove, of course, and Niall called shotgun, so Louis was forced to sit in between Liam and Harry. It didn’t really matter, though, because Harry was kissing him the whole time, lips moving from Louis’ mouth to his neck and shoulder, teeth grazing his collarbones. Liam was grumbling about never going anywhere with them, so Louis turned away from Harry for a minute and cuddled into Liam’s side.

“You can be my best man, Payno,” and as he said the words, the reality of the situation started sinking in — started being the key word. He went back to kissing Harry, feeling giddy, and lost himself in the taste of Harry.

When they got to the chapel, Louis begged Zayn to talk to the people in charge and charm them into letting him do the ceremony. It wasn’t like they were having a _ceremony,_ or anything. Just a couple of kids promising each other forever in the City of Lights.

Harry and Louis were standing in the pews, Louis stepping on Harry’s shoes so Harry didn’t have to bend down so much, and the rest of the world didn’t matter. It was just the two of them, always just them.

“Mr. and Mr. Tomlinson,” Harry giggled breathily into his mouth, and, holy shit, they were going to get married. They were at a chapel where Zayn would actually get them married and they would be _married,_ and holy shit.

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

Louis suddenly wasn’t that drunk anymore.

“Do you wanna?” Louis asked, voice barely a whisper, because what if Harry was just intoxicated, and what if Harry didn’t really mean anything he was saying? “Do you really wanna get married, H?”

“Of course, I do,” Harry mumbled, and his face was hidden in the crook of Louis’ neck, pressing wet kisses, and it felt so _good,_ but what if...

“You don’t have to, Haz. We can — you’re drunk and I don’t know if you know what you’re saying, so we don’t have to do this right now, I mean —”

Harry pinched Louis’ lips between his thumb and forefinger, effectively shutting him up. His eyes were tinted pink, probably because they hadn’t slept properly in so long, but the green in them was clear. “Louis Tomlinson,” he said, and his low voice sent a shiver running down Louis’ spine even in the Vegas heat. “I’m almost entirely sober now, have been for a while, and you are not going to stand me up at our wedding after I proposed to you.”

“You’d marry me?”

“I said forever, didn’t I?” He raised their hands, lets their tattoos press together. “It’s written in the stars.”

And it was such a sappy thing to say, so completely and utterly in character with Harry’s personality, that Louis just kissed him. He stepped up on his toes and kissed his boy, breathing promises of forever.

They had to pay before they could do anything, even though they weren’t asking for a minister or anything, because they still needed to sign forms.

“Mum’s gonna kill me,” Harry said, but he was smiling, and there was laughter in his eyes, bright and bubbly. It made Louis’ heart swell. “She’s actually going to skin me alive and Gemma will be her favorite child. Her _only_ child.”

Louis saw his own mother’s face and he shuddered to think of what she would do when she found out. She’d only been planning his wedding for, oh, _ever._

“We can still, like, I don’t know, we don’t have sign anything if you don’t want to,” Louis said, squeezing Harry’s hand. He knew how important a proper wedding ceremony was to Harry, and he’d rather die before he took something so special away from his boy. “We can just do this, and have the real thing in a year or so, you know, with our mums and sisters.”

“Want you now,” Harry said simply, like that was it.

“You have me forever,” Louis promised. He didn’t know what forever was, to be honest, or if it even existed, but it didn’t really matter. He’d find Harry in every life and make their own forever.

When it was their turn, everything happened quickly. They didn’t have any family, they weren’t particularly religious, but they were traditional in a sense that wasn’t very traditional, so Niall gave Harry away and Liam gave Louis away, and even though they were doing this in the most unorthodox way, there were still tears. Zayn didn’t read moving bits from the Bible, but he did take it upon himself to say a few words about Harry and Louis.

“There’s no one here to object to this, not that I would let them, but let me just tell you both how happy I am for the both of you. I saw you pine for each other when you were too stupid and too stubborn to do anything about it, and then I had to watch you both be stupid and stubborn again because of a bet. I’m still watching you do that.” Harry laughed at that, and Louis followed suit, letting his head fall onto Harry’s shoulder. He could hear Liam and Niall laughing, as well. “You’re not boyfriends, you don’t have any of those conventional labels, but I’ve never met two people more perfect for each other than the pair of you.” Louis pressed a kiss to Harry’s collarbone. “That being said, I know you don’t have rings, but do you wanna do vows?”

“Wait,” Harry said, and pulled back. His eyes stayed glued to Louis’ and he pinched his bottom lip, something he did when he was thinking about what to do. Then he brought his hands up to his neck and a second later pulled them away, holding his cross necklace. Louis’ heart was in his fucking throat because Harry never took that off, not when they had sex and not when he showered, and now he was giving it to Louis. He just fucking took off one of his most prized possessions, and he was giving it to Louis, and Louis wanted to hold him close and never let go. “No rings, but I have this.” He grinned at Louis, biting down on his lower lip, and reaching out to clasp the necklace around Louis’ neck. “Okay, now you can say your vows.”

Louis wasn’t good with words, never had been, so he took Harry’s left hand in his right and said, “Till our stars are aligned, I’m yours.”

Harry took a step and closed the space between them, whispered in his Louis’ ear, “For as long as the stars in the sky collide and for as long as forever remains, I’ll be your best friend,” because no one else needed to hear those words. They were for Louis and Louis alone.

There was a moment of quiet when all Louis heard was Harry breathing next to him, all he smelled was Harry’s fabric softener, before Zayn said, “Do you, Harry, take Louis to be your lawfully wedded husband, until forever ends?”

“I do,” Harry said, and Louis lost himself in the watery green of his eyes.

“Do you, Louis, take Harry to be your lawfully wedded husband, until forever ends?”

“Yes,” Louis’ voice broke, because, of course it fucking did. He blinked back the tears. “Yes, I do, a thousand times yes.”

A beat of silence, then Zayn’s smiling voice: “Then kiss him, you fool.”

Louis did. He reached up on his toes, cradled Harry’s face in both hands, and he’d be damned if this wasn’t the sweetest, most gentle kiss of his life.

And maybe Vegas was always supposed to be a thing.    

* * *

Louis startles at the sound of something thumping quietly against the floor, but it’s not enough to completely shake Louis from sleep. He burrows further into his pillow, breathing in the familiar scent of cheap laundry detergent, and stretches out an arm to tug Harry closer for warmth, but his fingers are only greeted with empty sheets. He squints one eye open, feebly calls out Harry’s name, and gets a muffled _hmm_ in response.

“Where’d you go?” Louis asks, tucking Harry’s pillow under his chin and holding it close.

“’M here,” Harry groans from somewhere, and Louis opens his eyes fully, but there’s no sign of Harry anywhere on the bed. He’s in his own room, he realizes, remembers driving back from Vegas and falling asleep in the backseat of his car while Zayn drove them home. He doesn’t remember getting home and falling into bed. He scoots to the edge of the bed, and there, on the floor, is Harry, rubbing his eye with a fist. “You kicked me off,” he grumbles.

“Come ‘ere,” Louis says, and reaches out a hand for Harry to take. Insteading of heaving Harry up onto the bed, Louis ends up being tugged down onto the floor, collapsing on top of Harry with an _oomph._ But he’s too tired to get back up, so he stays there, gets as comfortable as he can and curls himself around Harry, who’s still fully clothed. So is Louis, actually. So they really just fell asleep last night.

“What’re you thinking about?” Louis asks, because Harry’s awfully quiet.

“I’m thinking,” Harry drawls softly, and lets his fingers card through Louis’ messy hair. “I’m thinking that if I died right now, I’d die the happiest man in the world, because I have everything I could ever want.”

“Don’t die on me, please,” Louis says immediately, because even though Harry’s only joking, Louis doesn’t like the word _died_ being tied to Harry in any way.

Louis lays there, his head on Harry’s chest, counting along to the beat of Harry’s heart and letting the rhythm lull him back to sleep when Harry murmurs, “You married me and never even asked me to be your boyfriend.”

Louis would laugh, would tease him if he were wide awake, but he’s not, so he just says, “Well, you kinda just asked me to marry you, so, like, it’s your own fault you never got to be the boyfriend.”

Even as he says the words and thinks about what they mean — the fact that they’re fucking married — he doesn’t feel any differently about Harry, doesn’t feel weird. If anything, he feels happier than ever, because Harry is _his._ He gets to have this for the rest of his life. He gets to wake up to Harry for the rest of their lives.

“Louis,” Harry drags out the name, and Louis can practically hear the pout in the word, “will you just — would you just _please_ be my fucking boyfriend until all the paperwork’s done?”

A smile tugs at Louis’ lips this time. “Sure, I mean, not a lot of options unless I divorce you.”

Harry’s hand moves up and down Louis’ back, fingertips grazing his spine, and he feels a kiss pressed to his hair. “I will actually, seriously, genuinely kill you if you divorce me,” Harry promises and Louis doesn’t think he’s joking.

He thinks about telling their parents about this, that they fucking got married in Vegas like a goddamn cliché, and he remembers the joke he made at Harry’s birthday dinner — about Harry wanting to go to Vegas so they could secretly get married. Anne and Jay might force them into a divorce just so they could have a real wedding. He’s not looking forward to that conversation.

Right now, Louis leans back to press a kiss to the corner of Harry’s mouth. His eyes are closed, but his lips are curled up in a smile. “Bet you’ll divorce me before Valentine’s day.”

“You’re on.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> [fic post is here if you would like to reblog!](https://rosesau.tumblr.com/post/172658917366/take-my-hand-and-make-the-stars-collide-by)


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